The Dragon Has Three Heads
by phoenikxs
Summary: "Could I love Daario? What would it mean, if I took him into my bed? Would that make him one of the heads of the dragon? Ser Jorah would be angry, she knew, but he was the one who'd said she had to take two husbands. Perhaps I should marry them both and be done with it." What if Daenerys took Jorah's advice.


**AN: **Inspired by mrstater's prompt at the asoiafkinkmeme. A big thank you to mrstater for not only inspiring the story, but also for her invaluable advice and quick beta.

* * *

**The Dragon Has Three Heads**

_„Rhaenys and Visenay were Aegon's wives as well as his sisters. You have no brothers, but you can take husbands. "_

Jorah has lost track of how many times he's thought back to his words on that fateful night aboard the Balerion, trying to judge if they were a blessing or a curse. He vividly recalls his exhilaration as he spoke them, how he felt invincible, indestructible after kissing Daenerys and having her kiss him back, how her nipples felt against chest, rock hard pebbles, clearly indicating her interest, her involvement in the kiss. Back then, drunk on love and desire, he foolishly let himself believe - even if just for a moment - that she might actually consider his proposal. Consider him. Not even in his wildest dreams did he imagine she would take his advice quite so literally. Never did he imagine seeing his biggest dream come true, only to have to share it with the most detestable person he can think of.

Never did he imagine himself ending up one of Daenerys' husbands.

And never did he imagine Daario to be the other one.

* * *

Jorah will always remember the day Daenerys Targaryen proposed to him. If one could even call it that. It was not long after she made her victorious return to Mereen, sweeping into the city on Drogon's back at the head of a large khalasaar. She took the city before anyone even knew what was happening, and quickly reasserted herself as ruler. Hizdahr was sentenced to death for his crimes, making her a widow for the second time in as many years.

When Jorah and the Second Sons were granted an audience with Mereen's ruler, he didn't know what to expect. This was the moment he had waited for, longed for, dreamed of for so long, but now that it was finally here, he felt anxious. What if Daenerys didn't pardon him? What if she sent him away again? Or worse, what if she couldn't stand to look at him, now that he was branded a slave for all the world to see? What if she no longer had need of him or his counsel? What if she was fine without him, better off without him?

However, all his worrying could not prepare him for the reality of his reunion with Daenerys. She thanked the Second Sons for their help in re-taking the city, her eyes slowly moving over the ranks of mercenaries, showing no sign of recognition when her gaze landed on him. Jorah was prepared for rage, for anger, even for hatred, but her indifference hurt more than if she had slapped him. Only when she dismissed the company did she acknowledge him, motioning for her guards to leave as well.

"Ser Jorah, I want you to stay."

After everyone had left, she walked over to him, her face still betraying no emotion. "You came back."

Jorah briefly considered falling to his knees before her, but even after everything he'd been through – or especially after all that he had endured – he found he could not let go of the last bit of pride left to him. Instead, he bowed his head before his queen.

"Your Grace, I pledge my sword to you, my life to you, to protect you and serve you."

When he didn't receive an answer, in fact heard nothing from Daenerys, he lifted his head to see her standing directly in front of him, close enough to see the swirl of emotions in her eyes, pride and pity warring with what almost looked like tenderness and longing. Before he could ponder these conflicting emotions, a nightmarish thought occurred to him and he stopped cold.

"Unless you mean to send me away again?" His voice almost broke at the question.

Daenerys lifted her hand to gently touch the slaver's brand, forever marking him, a gentle smile finally breaking the emotionless mask on her face.

"I think you have suffered enough, my bear."

* * *

The next fortnight Jorah was the happiest he had ever been. Not even the first blissful days of his marriage to Lynesse compare to the feeling of exhilaration and contentedness that knowing his queen has forgiven him, accepted him back into her good graces, into her inner circle, evoke in him. He was granted his own moderate chambers in the palace, which felt like the most luxurious accommodations imaginable after his bear cage when he was still property of Yezzan zo Qaggaz, or his rudimentary tent in the camp of the Second Sons. But most importantly, he was once again acting as Daenerys' advisor. Spending his days by her side, taking his midday meals with her, arguing with her, strategizing with her.

He truly could not imagine a better life. And if he heard rumors about Daenerys spending her nights in the chambers of a certain blue-haired sellsword, who she had freed from the Yunkai, he did his best to ignore them.

Until one day, Daenerys asked him to take supper with her. Flustered, honored and excited by this invitation and the opportunity to spend even more time alone with his queen, he showed up at her chambers, freshly bathed and shaven, clad in his cleanest breeches and shirt, only to be greeted by the sight of Daario casually lounging on one of the many luxurious cushions, drinking wine.

Little did he know the night would hold much greater surprises that would forever change his life.


End file.
